


Where The Sun Sets

by Faye_Reynolds



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: ;), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, M/M, PWP but with some feelings thrown in for SpICe, building a cairn together is something that can be so romantic, graham gore lives to serve, little hair pulling for fun, set in episode 2, this was written from one line of dialogue, welcome to the bean soup y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Reynolds/pseuds/Faye_Reynolds
Summary: He isn’t sure why he frames his statement the way he does, but he can’t think beyond the delicate pink rising on the shorter man’s cheeks, the rogue snow settling on long dark lashes, and the plush lips, bitten red.No man has any right to look that pretty.
Relationships: Graham Gore/Charles Frederick Des Voeux
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	Where The Sun Sets

**Author's Note:**

> been a long time since i've written anything resembling this so please keep that in mind.  
> first fic for the pairing has me feeling all sorts of ways.  
> welcome to the world of gorevoeux, join me.

_“You deserve a prize for your orienteering, Mr. Des Voeux.”_

Graham knows that he’s smiling too brightly, but he can’t deny the pride in Charles’ navigation. He can deny, however, the rush of affection that he feels when Charles ducks his head and gives Graham a shy, “Thank you, sir.”

When he had suggested the other men return, while he and Charles built the cairn, he had no idea it would devolve into… _this_.

Him dreadfully trying to keep his thoughts proper and away from the distractions of Charles’ smile, voice, and wind-bitten cheeks he wishes to warm with his lips.

Though he guesses that it could only have ever come to this as he has spent the better part of this expedition acting as mentor and friend to Charles as much as possible. He still cannot entirely pinpoint the moment he took an interest in the other man, but he does remember the first time he wanted to kiss him.

* * *

They had been working on a minor task together, only the two of them out in the elements.

“Best not to waster precious resources.” Sir John said and though Graham had agreed at more men not risking the environment, he did need a second set of eyes.

“I will go, sir,” Charles spoke up just the moment Graham had finished asking if anyone wanted to join him willingly.

There is a snide comment made that Graham doesn’t hear fully but catches the end of.

“…sure to relax your jaw, Des Voeux.”

Graham is grateful his back is turned lest his blush is noticed.

“Now, now we can’t all be as loose-lipped as you, Golding, some of us have talent.”

There’s a chorus of laughter indicating the conversation ended with Charles the clear winner.

He turns, holding out a lantern to Charles who takes it without meeting his eyes. Charles was always a man of clear and easy confidence and now can barely speak to Graham.

He doesn’t speak again until they’re on deck.

“You have to excuse them, sir. Too much time at sea with not near enough means of releasing tension.”

Graham smiles and laughs roughly against the frigid wind, “You must mistake me for a novice, I have been around sailors and men more than my own family.”

He places a strong hand on Charles’ shoulder, “You need not protect my virtue, Charles, I’ve long since been without it.”

He isn’t sure why he frames his statement the way he does, but he can’t think beyond the delicate pink rising on the shorter man’s cheeks, the rogue snow settling on long dark lashes, and the plush lips, bitten red.

_No man has any right to look that pretty._

He’s unaware of how long he’s been _gazing_ but is surprised to find that it is mutual. Charles’ eyes watch him with little guarded hope and a modicum of desire that seemed to be growing.

He leans in almost imperceptibly, impulsively wishing to see if those lips taste as good as they look.

“Oh! Lieutenant Gore! I’m happy to see you’ve not left, Captain Fitzjames suggested I join you.” Mr. Hartnell calls out as he joins them on deck.

Graham has never in his life been so close to disobeying a direct order, but he watches Charles back away with a knowing smile and thinks better of it, unsure what would happen if they were left alone.

“Very well, help Mr. Des Voeux with the gear.”

He takes a moment to shake his nerves and calm his racing heart but still manages to catch the sly smile and heated gaze from Charles all through their work.

He returns each in kind.

* * *

He wishes to say he's not had such thoughts since that night nearly four months prior, but each time he caught the other man’s eye around the ship, they came full force and unbidden.

Now, as they finally finish their construction of the cairn, there are several shouts of joy and the two men hug in celebration.

There is a suspended moment where they hold one another, smiling and enjoying the rare moment of pure joy that has been missing since they were frozen in.

Suddenly, Graham was brought back to that night on deck, when he only needed to cross three inches and take what he so desperately wanted.

“The official notice will have to be written in the morning, sir,” Charles speaks with care, a suggestive lilt to his tone, “we’ve not enough light to ensure it is correct.”

Graham missed it and instead reads it as rejection.

He takes a deep breath that gets lodged in his throat, the frigid air freezing and seizing him stronger than he can remember.

“Very well,” he rasps out, “let us get in the tent. We can finish it in the morning and make the trek back with the men.”

Then Graham turns around and is instantly reminded that they’ve only _one tent._

He hadn’t expected to remain so long, but they had not left until midday, to begin with, and now they would have to stay. After their second hour, he had Charles set it up as a precaution and a means for a temporary shelter from the chill. Now it would be their home until morning.

He bids any other thoughts besides sleep away and, finishes gathering the last of the supplies while Charles grabs their lanterns.

Graham holds the tent flap aside with a smile, “After you Mr. Des Voeux.”

He is instantly reminded of just how small these tents can be with two men in full sledge gear who are meant to sleep inside when he attempts to set their equipment aside and his rear is immediately met with the other man’s front.

He stands up again quickly, rattled, “I’m sorry, Mr. Des Voeux, I should have withheld two tents, there is so little room in so much gear.”

“We could always remove some.” Charles offers with the ease of someone commenting on the weather.

The suggestion sounds distant to Graham’s ears though they are no more than a meter apart.

Despite misjudging Charles’ rejection, he realizes that he stands on the precipice of a dangerous choice. He could either ignore the comment and set about turning down for the night or he could give into everything he has tried to maintain, pull Charles to him, and take all that could be offered.

He must take too long to respond because Charles mutters, “Perhaps not, sir,” with uncertainty and shame that Graham wishes to remove at once.

His mind is made up and clear as the night sky as he steps into Charles’ space, backing him against the side of the tent.

Charles’ hand land on his chest and though it is likely not possible, the heat seeps beneath his slops and warms his chest.

He can’t stop himself from placing his own over Charles and watches as a slow smile creeps its way to existence, plush lips stretching over sharp teeth.

“Seems you and I, we’re not so different.” The shorter man comments with a patient grace that Graham does not possess at the moment.

Still, he grinds out through a tight throat, eye locked on Charles’ mouth, “How’s that?”

“Neither of us need protection of virtue.”

He meets Charles’ eyes, sees the uninhibited heat and desire, and smiles.

“Are you certain of this, Charles?” He wishes nothing more than to embrace Charles, who has tempted him every day for nearly four, long and agonizing months, but needs to know that the other man knows he expects nothing that is not given freely.

Charles pulls Graham closer, solely by the belt above his waist alone, the action making Graham swallow harshly and breathe faster.

“The only thing I’m certain of is that if you don’t kiss me this instant, I will find a way to make you sleep in the elements tonight.”

Graham doesn’t need to be told twice, “Yes, sir,” he whispers before pulling Charles to his chest.

He leans in slowly, teasing just a moment longer if only to bask in the feeling of _wanting_ and of being _wanted_.

“For fuc-,”

Graham silences him and finally captures the lush lips that have tormented him for far longer than he cares to remember.

He’s met with ferocity, teeth, and heat and he begins to sweat beneath his gear the longer they stand and devour one another.

Charles suddenly pulls back, panting but still so smug that Graham feels unstable.

“Strip me.” The order is clear and full of pure hunger.

Graham couldn’t deny him had he even wanted to try.

His hands shake as he starts, skin tingling from experience and exposure, but once he reaches Charles' trousers his resolve settles and he drops to his knees.

The surprise on Charles’ face at the sudden motion is more than enough encouragement.

He smiles as the opening reveals a swollen prick that is now Graham’s and Graham’s alone, “I wasn’t lying before, Charles.”

The rapid breathing of the man above his cuts out as he stutters, “ _What_?”

Graham feels a satisfaction like none before knowing Charles was just as deep into this as he was.

He raises his eyes and is met with the flush cheeks and wild eyes of a truly desperate and wanton man…all from Graham’s doing and for his use.

“You deserve a prize for your orienteering, Mr. Des Voeux.”

He winks before returning to his own prize.

 _“Frig me,”_ Charles whispers, not a demand but an exhale, breath returning to its rapid pace.

Graham releases Charles’ length from its confines with a satisfying hiss from the man above him.

He gives a few gentle tugs, sizing up which sensations make Charles pull back and push forward.

“ _Please._ ” He begs, unable to keep still as each movement drives him closer to madness.

Graham finally takes pity, his own desire taking him over.

The moment Charles touches his tongue, Graham is lost entirely. A lifetime spent in the company of men, and _only men_ for long stretches of time, has Graham as expert at this as any other activity one performs at sea.

Judging by the absolute guttural moan that crawls its way from Charles’ throat, he’s not lost his touch despite the time that’s passed since he last did this.

Graham loses himself in the movements, drawing each and every possible moan, gasp, and whine from Charles he can, each noise a spark to Graham’s own flames of desire, building each time he takes the other man deeper into his mouth.

He pulls off suddenly, exposing the hot, wet skin to a cold breeze.

Charles grips his hair far too tightly for most, but Graham shivers and moans as the nerves alight with blunt and sharp pain.

He lifts his eyes, half-lidded on their own to find the smug smirk has returned to the other man’s face.

“You’re quite proficient at this, Lieutenant.”

Graham has no idea how Charles sounds so calm and put together. It turns him on to no end, his own prick pressing incessantly against his trousers, the rough fabric making him squirm endlessly.

“Suppose we all achieve our posts in our own way,” Charles suggests with a dark quip.

Graham knows he doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, yet the suggestion has a full-body shiver course through his body in faux shame.

“ _Oh,_ we will have to play with _that_ another time. Now, give me my prize.”

It’s an order and like any other, Graham follows through to the letter, minding reeling and dizzy with sensation and shame and thoughts of _another time_.

He tries to reach for his own prick, even through all of his gear, a boot-clad foot presses against it with precise pressure.

Graham falls forward in ecstasy at the sharp weight, Charles’ prick sliding that much further, touching the back of his throat.

“ _Graham!”_ Charles shouts, coarse and wanton.

It’s expected and Graham can tell Charles is close and by the way, he’s nearly ripping his hair from his roots, Graham is too.

He needs to hear his name once more from the Eden-worthy lips…not Lieutenant…not Gore…but _Graham._

He braces himself against the other man’s thighs, sweat dripping down his back, foot now pressing unremittingly against his prick.

He breathes deeply through his nose and pulls Charles’ prick fully into his throat, unrelenting and all-encompassing. He’s never felt so full and wanted and alive in his life than in this moment.

Charles makes a choking noise followed by several gasps before shouting again, “ _Graham, fuck!”_

The sudden heat coats his throat and warms him from the inside out as the foot against him presses just harsh enough for Graham to sob as he spends suddenly and without being touched.

Charles pulls out in haste, overly sensitive, and Graham gasps for breath from sensation and lack of oxygen.

The other man falls to his knees and crashes his lips to Graham’s.

It’s hotter than what they’ve just done, and Graham loses himself in the exploration Charles’ tongue is doing. The idea of Charles seeking out his own taste mixed with Graham’s would be enough for his prick to rise to the occasion once again had the intensity of his ending now been so powerful.

He pulls apart, still trying to catch his breath, and lay his brow on Charles’ shoulder, sweat soaking through the shirt Charles still had on.

“Next time, I will strip you fully.”

Charles laughs, “As will I.”

Graham smiles as he looks into the dark brown eyes full of admiration and awe.

“I must admit I didn’t expect that from you.” Charles comments.

Graham kisses him, freely and without qualm, “Someone has to keep you on your toes, Charles.”

“I’d rather you keep me on my back, _Graham._ ”

Graham’s eyes close at the salacious use of his name and images of the endless pale expanse of a naked Charles on his back, primed for the taking.

He’s kissed again, with Charles taking time to kiss each cheek before biting his lips.

Graham smiles, content and _hopeful_ for the first time since they set sail.

“Plenty of time for that, but for now we must rest. Morning will come before we know it and I would like another chance to frig you before we return.”

Charles chokes on slightly less frigid air and Graham laughs as he settles into their makeshift bed.

He watches the other man dress again to prepare for their rest.

Charles turns all but one lantern off and the last is set to a dull flame, just enough to make out on another’s face. He fully expects Charles to keep some distance, though it’s the very last thing Graham wants. He’d keep Charles close to his chest for the rest of his life if he could, though he tries his hardest not to let his eyes show it.

He fails.  
  
If the way Graham’s smug smirk has returned was anything to go by.

But then a thin hand intertwines with his thick one and suddenly he doesn’t feel the need to hide. He closes his eyes but the smile doesn’t leave his face.

“Quite the prize you’ve given me.”

Graham was nearly asleep, but his eyes are wide and awake now. He has no right, he knows, but the selfish and reckless part of him that has always somehow taken control where his heart was concerned, takes over.

He tried to stay calm, “I would say the feeling is mutual, Charles. I’ve not had this in quite some time.”

“Would you have it with others?”

Graham is thrown by the question but responds honestly in a heartbeat.

“Not now, no.”

“Now?” Charles whispers, brow furrowing in confusion.

Graham’s heart breaks that the man before him, the incredible, intelligent, and intuitive man before him, would think he could or would want anyone else.

“I would have you, _only you_ , for as long as you have me and _only me._ ” It is as simple as Graham can manage to put it and he only hopes Charles can gauge the weight of his words.

He’s drawn into a delicate, tender kiss that makes his breath stutter.

“So be it.” Charles declares with ease, like everything else, Graham has noticed.

He refuses to let Charles go and pulls him into a more comfortable sleeping position for the night.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms and it is more peaceful and warmer than any night Graham can remember in his life.

He dreams of pale skin and white sheets with morning suns and black tea. He dreams of kisses and bites and hands and nails. He dreams of a future. One he will do _anything_ to see come to fruition.


End file.
